Wahl Street: do we really need a Mark Wahlberg reality show?

A few years ago Mark Wahlberg published his daily routine, and it was punishingly dumb. Up at 2.30am, half an hour of prayers, two workouts, three hours of meetings, an hour in a cryogenic chamber and bed by half past seven. It was preposterous.

Luckily, it’s also a thing of the past. There comes a moment in Wahl Street, a new documentary series that was ostensibly designed to showcase Mark Wahlberg’s unstoppable flair for business, where he’s slumped against a table, the world’s rattiest beard clinging to his face. The pandemic has been raging for months, and all his investments have begun to nosedive precipitously. In a flat, distant voice, Wahlberg informs us that he doesn’t get out of bed much before 9.30am any more. Mark Wahlberg, it turns out, is human after all.

Make no mistake, the idea of Wahl Street is a terrible one. It was designed to be a parade of Trump-level selfcongratulation. At the start of the first episode Wahlberg is in his car, hardballing some off-screen schmuck about the value of his participation in a gym franchise opportunity. The car stops, and Wahlberg gets out to attend the premiere of his new movie. The show wants to demonstrate what a machine

Mark Wahlberg is, what a tidal wave of multidisciplinary success he rides. He’s got a gym chain, a clothing line, a burger chain, a nutrition brand, a bottled water business, two production companies and an auto group. Everything he touches turns to gold. He is